


She'll Be A Star Now (She'll Be A Scar Now)

by orphan_account



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (besides the +1 which is coming soon), 5 +1 Times, After part 3, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergent, Did I say kissing? There's more of that now, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Mentions of Past Torture, Near Future, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Part four was one of my favorite parts to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-02 08:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13314066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Five times that Fitz reassures Jemma about her many scars, and the one time he doesn’t have to.





	1. First.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [awwcoffeenooooo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/awwcoffeenooooo/gifts).



> Hi yes I'm back and with a 5+1 fic nonetheless :)
> 
> Happy friendaversary, Kayla! <3

_He's alive. He's breathing. He's safe._

Jemma's head was swimming with questions. A lot of them included Will, although she was sure she could answer most of them. Some of them involved her concern about the team members returning from Maveth. The one question she didn't want answered is if they came into contact with It. She knew what that thing was capable of; the last thing she needed was to hear that one of them got hurt by It. Or worse. Through all those suggestions, however, three words knifed through the haze, in regards to the man in her arms: alive, breathing, safe.

She knew it was a suicide mission they went on. She knew the risks they all took to complete it. She would've gladly taken Fitz's spot to go back and search for Will. But he did it for her. He sacrificed his life to bring back someone she cared about. That realization only confirmed her feelings for Fitz.

She pulled back from his embrace reluctantly, greedily desiring to cling onto him for longer but not wanting to linger unnecessarily. Her stomach lurched when she noticed a gash on his forehead - a fairly decent sized wound near the lining of his hair - and a painful expression on his face. She knows Will didn't make it back; her peek into the empty medpod earlier confirmed her fears. But that wasn't the reason why he looked pained.

Jemma glanced around at her surroundings. Mack, Bobbi and Hunter were in a circle smiling and chatting. Daisy and Lincoln were acting like they were the only ones in the room, tied up in each other. Coulson and May embraced in a way that didn't appear to be ending anytime soon. Numerous others gathered around in the background, just relieved to see everyone making it back in one piece.

They're all rejoicing for their loved ones that have returned. Jemma is too numb to mourn the one who hasn't. She instead focuses her attention on the living breathing man in front of her.

"You should get that checked out," she says, glancing up to his forehead. The gash isn't fresh, that much she can tell. It's not dried over completely, but it's very likely infected in its exposed state. Worse yet, it's been exposed to alien atmosphere. Who knows what's found its way into his system by now.

"I'm fine Jemma. It's only a cut," he reassures her, wincing in the slightest when he feels her hand brush the patch of skin next to it.

"What caused this?" she inquires. Her arm falls back instantly to its side.

His voice drops into a whisper. "Can we just... talk about it all later?"

She nods in agreement. Jemma knows that talking about it is the last thing he wants right now. She can see the exhaustion plaguing his body, the way his frame hangs into a slouch. She's sure the only thing he wants right now is to finally take a seat. So Jemma walks over to the seats by the wall of the plane and he follows, both of them sitting and, eventually, dozing off against each other.

* * *

As soon as they get back to the base, Fitz follows Jemma off the plane and to the lab to get patched up. They're both quiet as they walk through the halls, hearing the bustling from the lab even before they enter. Standing from the entrance of the lab, they see agents all over, working busily in the the two agents' absences. They share a look, and then Jemma nods for Fitz to follow her.

She leads him to her bunk, hesitating in the slightest before opening the door. They've been in each other's rooms more times than she can count, but this is different. She's letting him in after Will came into the picture, after their kisses in the lab, after...Will _left_ the picture.

She opens the door and stands aside for him to walk in before shutting it behind them. She silently orders him to sit on the bed while she grabs her first aid kit from beside her desk.

"I'll be right back," she says, slipping out the door to grab a damp rag and a bowl of cold soapy water from the bathroom before making her way back into her room. Pulling her desk chair over to the bed, she sits down her the bowl resting between her thighs and begins dabbing away at the wound. After a minute, her arms feel heavy at having to keep them lifted, so she instead decides to stand, setting the bowl down on the chair behind her. This gives her extra leverage on him, able to see his injury better, and give her a better opportunity to move closer. Meanwhile, his eyes don't leave her face at all while she does so.

"Are you going to explain how you got this?" she asks, reiterating her previous question. She lightens the pressure on the wound in the slightest when she notices him wincing again.

"I fell down a hill," he admits. "Pushed, actually."

Jemma stops dabbing and sets the rag down in the bowl behind her. "Ward?" He nods in response, watching as she steps away and places the bowl on her desk.

"I was trying to figure out the hypothetical locations of where the portal would be so we could travel home," he says to her turned back, "but Ward kept pestering me. So I reached for his gun but he moved a lot faster than me and pushed me down the hill."

Jemma turns around sharply to criticize him for his stupid act, but the thought leaves her head as she hits her side hard on the corner of her desk. Sharp pain shoots through her entire body: her face screws up, and she feels like she's going to be sick. It takes a second, but she pushes down the feeling, and asks Fitz, "Are you okay? What other injuries do you have?"

Fitz, though, is too focused on what just happened to her to tell her what else hurts. "It seems like I should be asking you those questions, Jemma. What happened to you?" he asks.

"Oh, it's nothing Fitz. I bumped my side on the desk a little hard, is all." She walks back over to the bed, grabbing the bandages from the first aid kid when his hand stills her actions.

"Jemma. Sit."

Jemma wants to deny, telling him that she's fine, but she knows he won't take no for an answer. That's one strength and weakness they both share. He stands up and worms his way around her to sit on the chair, and she turns to sit - movements stiff, he now realizes - in the spot he vacated on the bed.

Sinking down into the mattress, he notices her hands trembling. "Are you okay, Jemma?"

She shakes her head almost immediately, biting her lip hard to keep her emotions intact. She knows that what she's deciding to do will change the atmosphere of the room, but he deserves to know the truth. She reaches for the hem of her shirt, but then halts her action. She knows she'll be able to start pulling it up but that she won't be able to finish. Jemma looks up silently and whispers her request. At first he's hesitant, but then he nods before reaching out to her shirt.

Holding his breath, he pulls the hem up as slow as he can so as not to cause her more pain. His eyes don't leave hers at all, both afraid to look down and afraid to look away from her eyes. He helps her arms out of her sleeves as carefully as he can so as not to hurt her. He pushes it up and over her head, placing the shirt on the bed next to her. Her eyes fall down to look at her lap in humiliation and that's when he finally allows himself to look at what the cause of the problem is. Or causes, for that matter.

Purples, blues, greens and yellows blend into the milky color of her skin along her stomach. The sight itself was so vulgar that Fitz had to fight the bile that was rising into his throat. His eyes trail from her bruised stomach up her arms, where little bruises and cuts decorate her arms from hand to shoulder.

It takes a while for Fitz to push down the nausea of what he sees to finally speak. "Was this -?" He pauses, trying to catch his breath and say the right words. "Did W-Ward do this to you?"

She shakes her head. "It was his psychopath inhuman accomplice, actually."

"I'm going to kill him," Fitz mutters, standing up with a force so strong the chair crashed to the ground behind him. Jemma winces.

"Fitz no," Jemma interjects, grabbing his hand before he could go any further. "Killing Giyera won't solve anything. It won't prevent what's already happened."

"He tortured you, Jemma," he says, his voice breaking when he says the word. "I know I can't will these bruises and scars away from your body, but I can make sure he doesn't so much as breathe in the same room as you again."

"And will that make you happy, Fitz? Will your conscience be okay if you kill him?" She examines his face, the eyes that have seen so much, and sees noticing but determination in them.

"If it means being able to prevent him from hurting you again, then yes," he says.

She shivers - both at the intensity of his gaze and the temperature of the room hitting her bare skin. He almost immediately notices and moves away from her. "I'm going to find you another shirt to wear," he mumbles.

He nods for her to stay sitting on the bed but she ignores the gesture and walks over to the full length mirror on her wall. It's the first time she's gotten the chance to fully look at the evidence of the torture since it happened. The myriad of colors that mark her skin remind Jemma of nebulae; she's always adored space, but not as much when it looks as if its been seared into her skin.

Fitz must have noticed the frown on her face as she looked downtrodden at the bruises. The next thing she sees - or rather feels - is his presence behind her. She looks up to see him looking, not at her body, but at her face, something indecipherable in his eyes. Whatever it was, it gave her a warm feeling in her stomach.

Fitz gathers the shirt in his hands, bunching it up to fit it over her head. He pulls the oversized shirt - his jumper actually, he notices with a grin - down over her frame. He does his best not to touch her stomach as it rests loose on her body. Grabbing on of her arms gently, he guides it cautiously through the sleeve and then the other, wincing when he sees her face contort in pain.

His hand reaches forward to catch hers, squeezing it gently, and a warm feeling buzzes through her body. He finally pulls her hair out from under the shirt - the elastic in her hair falling out at some point - and smiles at her in the mirror's reflection. For the first time in a while, she genuinely smiles back.


	2. Second.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz reassures Jemma that her scars aren't what he sees when he looks at her. Takes place within the events of 3x17. Canon Compliant. Fluff and slight angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to Tegan for beta-ing this <3

 

There were many instances in Fitz's life where he didn't approve of Jemma interrupting him. The first week they were paired together in chem lab, she did nothing but complete his sentences, impressing the professors but aggravating Fitz. It was even more frustrating when the hallucination Jemma his mind conjured up would do it too. 

 

But he doesn't quite mind when she interrupts him with her lips on his. 

 

Her hands are cold - freezing, actually - against his neck, but her lips are warm as they move against his. He's trying hard to keep up with her advances, but she's clearly taking the lead, only leaning in for more as soon as she pulls away. 

 

His hands, he realizes in his daze, are clutching her sides, and he pulls away from the kiss in alarm.

 

"Are you okay?" she asks, panting. He mentally curses himself for stopping. Jemma Simmons is sitting in his lap kissing him breathless and all he can think of is where his hands were placed.

 

"I wanted to make sure I wasn't hurting you," Fitz answers, his breathing shallow like hers. She looks at him, confused.

 

"Where my hands were," he manages to croak out in explanation, "I didn't want to hurt you where you were..."

 

He doesn't need to finish his sentence to see the wheels turning in her brain before it clicks. "Oh Fitz," she sighs, "I'm okay."

 

"Promise?"

 

She nods, pulling him back in for another kiss. This one is deeper, harder, Fitz's head swimming suddenly with indecent thoughts. Her hands return to their place on his neck, almost teasingly, and his hands cover her forearms to keep her there.

 

Unfortunately, this kiss is also interrupted by a sharp intake of breath from Jemma, followed by a slight cough. Fitz curses himself for forgetting about the fresh injury on her arm.

 

"God, I'm so sorry Jemma," he says, cradling her arm between his hands and inspecting the wound. The blood is visible through the bandage, an all out sign that it should be redressed.

 

Jemma's hand slides up to his chin and leans forward to give him a slow, dizzying kiss. His hand slides up to her neck, holding her in place when she pulls back. "It's okay, Fitz. It was only an accident."

 

She hops out of his lap, much to his disappointment, and grabs the first aid kit sitting by his desk. She always pestered him that he should keep at least two in his room, but now he's fortunate for it. 

 

"May I?" He asks, gesturing to the wrap. She nods, not quite in his lap but sitting as close to him as she can. He peels back the bandage, swallowing the nausea he feels from seeing her open wound. He cradles her arm as he wraps the new gauze around it as careful as he can. She jumps slightly as the bandage covers over the wound, and he squeezes her bicep in apology. Once he finishes, she releases a sigh. 

 

"Thank you," Jemma says as he pushes the first aid kit back towards his desk. When he sits back and looks over at her, her eyes focus on her wrapped arm with a frown on her lips.

 

"What is it?" he asks.

 

"We could've gotten severely hurt today, Fitz." She looks up with a sad smile. "That bomb that went off... It could've killed us. It could've killed you."

 

Fitz sucks in a sharp breath. If they had been in the room when it went off, who knows what kind of condition they would be in right now. He pulls her into his arms, almost cradling her. 

 

"All that matters now," he says with a sigh, "is that we're alive. We're safe in here, at least for now." She grins up at him, mirroring his own expression. "And we're together."

 

Her face grows serious, and it isn't long before she's placing her hand up on his cheek and extending her body up to mold her lips against his. The kiss is soft and gentle at first, but then she adjusts her body so she has better leverage and deepens the kiss. She maneuvers her body until she's straddling him, making him groan. Suddenly all of the nice thoughts and concerns Fitz had flew out of his mind. 

 

Her hands settle on his neck and slowly move up into his hair, her nails scratching his scalp as they move. His arms wind themselves around her back and pull her closer into his chest, the movement causing both of them to groan. They both smile then, which dissolves into laughter, and they have to break apart to catch their breaths. Jemma gasps when she sees just how dark Fitz's eyes are - full of love and want and lust and all she wants to do is drown in them.

 

She leans in to kiss him again with a hungrier passion than before, and her hands push his down to her hips from their position on her upper back. He groans yet again, and Jemma wants nothing more than for him to make that noise again. So she pushes her body more into his, kissing him harder, and feels more than hears the groan he releases into her mouth. His hands slip under her sweater, at first his thumbs sliding in slow patterns against the soft skin, but then slowly sinking into her sides.

 

And that's when she stills against his lips, a large wave of nausea rolling though her body.

 

He pulls away, dazed and confused, unsure as to why she stopped. But the look on her face she tries her hardest to cover up tells him all he needs to know. Not even asking for permission, he pulls up the hem of her sweater with his right hand to investigate her skin with the other.

 

"I thought - I thought you said," he asks with wide eyes, tears beginning to pool in them.

 

The cuts are merely scars now, looking more like the surgical mark on her lower back than anything else. But the bruises are as vibrant as they were the first time he saw them, making his stomach turn. Whatever that psychopath did to her was long lasting. Before he can say anything, Jemma's hands pull his away from her body and the sweater falls back over them. 

 

He looks up at her, the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. Her heart breaks at the sight. "I never wanted you to see them again, Fitz." She climbs out of his lap to instead sit criss-crossed in front of him. "I figured that as long as I said I was okay that you would stop asking me about them."

 

"Hey," he says fiercely, "I will never stop asking if you are okay. Not after what you went through."

 

She nods, looking down at her lap. "Every time I look in the mirror and see the evidence of what Giyera did to me, I'm disgusted." Her eyes meet his, her vision blurry with her own tears. "I'm disgusted with my body and how I look because, if I'm being honest-" she pauses, and he reaches forward to squeeze her hand.

 

"I don't want our first time to be you looking at my scars with the same amount of disgust I do," she finishes. She looks him dead in the eye instead of averting them.

 

He can't fight the blush hitting the tips of his ears at her comment. Even the thought of them taking that step felt too intimate at the moment, even with everything they've been through. Of course, he'd had the thought creep into his mind as soon as she made it very clear where they stood. But he never would've guessed that she would've just gone out and said it. 

 

He's must've went too long without saying anything, so she panics and stands up abruptly, shaking the invisible dust from her pants. "I'm s-sorry I um - that I said all that. I should probably just-"

 

She doesn't finish her sentence because he's standing in seconds, his hand grabbing hers so tight that she whips her head back in alarm.

 

"What is it?" she asks. A tear falls out of her eye just then, and his eye shifts over to look at it for a moment, but then returns to her eyes. 

 

He doesn't answer her question. Instead, he pulls her close and kisses her so hard that her head spins out of orbit. His hands cradle her neck as she stays still in place, only focusing on the feeling of his lips moving frantically over hers. Gently pushing her backwards, her knees hit the bed and she falls onto it, her back hitting the mattress and their kiss breaking apart. 

 

"What are you doing?" she whispers against his lips, his breath hot against her mouth.

 

"Let me show you," he says, adjusting their bodies so she's lying on his pillow and he's half hovering over her. 

 

His hand trails from her cheek down her arm and down to the hem of her sweater. Her hand flies down to cover his, and he stalls, not sure what to think. With her eyes trained on his, she pulls both hands to the hem and slowly moves them up, their hands joined in sliding the shirt up over her frame.

 

He pulls it over her head, their eyes connecting once it's divested. They don't have time to go all the way, not with all of the research they have to do to figure out who is infected on their team. But they do have time to give into the love they hold, for just a moment.

 

He leans down, kissing her lips gently a few times before trailing down to her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She lies still, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips travel down her arms. They drag slow against the healing skin, and Jemma can't help the tears falling from her eyes as she closes them even tighter.

 

He kisses the inside of her elbow, all the way up her forearm, the inside of her wrist. He then kisses her hand, not missing the fact that it cradled around his face when he did so.

 

He kissed all of the scars that showed what she went through that day. He kissed every inch of her stomach, and repeatedly whispered that it was okay when her body was wracking with sobs. Before he pulled her close into his chest, he kissed right above where her heart was still beating, where her biggest scar was only just beginning to heal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you thought! Feel free to leave a comment below or talk to me on tumblr at fitzjemma <3


	3. Third.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fitz notices something different about Jemma after the framework. Within the events of 4x21/4x22. Canon compliant. Angst..then fluff..then angst again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thanks to Tegan for helping reconstruct this part (for I had trouble getting past it)

She knew that she'd have to break apart from him at some point. She doesn't want to, but she has to.  He stopped crying a bit ago, but he never let go of her hand, so she stayed. She stayed and hovered over his body like a shield, as if she could protect him from the consequences of his actions, even though she knew she couldn't.  She wants to hold him, cradle his face in her hands, and kiss him until they both forget the madness and the pain, and she can feel her entire body aching with the need to embrace him, but she knows he doesn't want it.

 

He chose her, he only has room in his heart for her, but he doesn't think he’s worthy of a future with her.  And that absolutely wrecks her.

 

Unable to continue sitting there, lost in the maelstrom of her own thoughts, Jemma lifts her head from the top of his spine, his hand loosening its grip on hers, and she leaves without another glance.  Her feet move on their own accord, as she replays the events of the last few days in her head, Fitz's words to Aida echoing out in her head like hammer blows: my future with Jemma is dead.

 

Jemma belatedly realizes she’s in the lab; it’s almost unrecognizable, everything inside just charred remains. An accurate description, she thinks bitterly, of her and Fitz’s relationship now.

 

She digs around, checking for damage, but apart from a few stray items and tools, everything else was lost to the fire.

 

"What happened to your leg?"

 

His voice in the thick silence startles her, so much so that she actually jumps. Turning around to face the source of the voice, she notices that Fitz's eyes are focused on her leg instead of her face.

 

"I'm fine, Fitz. There's nothing to worry about." She rummages through the burnt debris, desperate for something to do, even though she knows she won't find anything else that survived.

 

"There's always something to worry about, Jemma." He steps closer, but he's still so far away. "What happened to you? Tell me."

 

She hesitates, not wanting to get into it right this minute, too exhausted to relay the details she’s been avoiding, but she knows Fitz won't stop until he knows what happened to her. In lieu of an answer, Jemma sits down on a chair beside her, and pulls her hair back to reveal the nasty bruises on her neck.

 

Fitz looks away, unable to look at the purple marks that colored her skin. Unlike the ones on her stomach and arms, these are fresh.

 

"Who did this to you?" he whispers, his vision blurring over with tears.

 

Jemma shakes her head, not sure how to explain how it was him, but wasn't at the same time.

 

"I thought it was you-" she begins.

 

"My LMD did this to you.” Is all he says, gesturing in a vague motion toward the bruises. Of course he understood her. He always does.

 

She nods, and he hesitantly takes a step closer, unsure if he should or not. When Jemma doesn't stop him or flinch away, his movements become more sure, and he stands over her, her head next to his chest.

 

His hand hovers over her neck, yearning to touch and feel what he-his LMD-did to her, but he sharply moves his hand away, backing away to the other side of the room.

 

Jemma doesn't stop him, expecting him to leave. She can't say she’d blame him if he did. Instead, he turns around and asks in a pained voice:

 

“What happened, Jemma?" His voice breaks when he says her name.

 

Jemma swallows thickly, her stomach already tying itself into knots as she recalls what happened. “The LMD detectors kept going off whenever anyone walked through it...and it went off when we went past it, too. I didn't know who I could trust... couldn't even trust myself.”

 

"How did you find out it wasn't me?" he asks, his voice trembling.

 

"I knew it was one of us. I had a gun pointed at you - it - and it was crying…. I thought it was you, Fitz. I thought it was you. May's LMD didn't know what it was, after all. But...it was like holding you, the real you, at gunpoint. I was terrified...if I was the LMD, I could've killed you.

 

She pauses then, tears streaming down her face. Fitz's hands trembled at his sides.

 

"I made it prove it was you, Fitz.  You brought a blade to your wrist and it was all foggy from there onward. The next thing I know, there was a knife in my leg and gunshots went off and I passed out."

 

His head is bent. His shoulders are trembling and his hand is covering his face but Jemma can tell he's crying.

 

She can't bring herself to continue. She can't tell him what his LMD said to her. She can't tell him what he's already thought about. And she especially cannot tell him now, not when she still wants it and he doesn't.

"I'm just like Ward," he whispers.

 

"Fitz -"

 

"I'm no different th-than the man who bloody tortured you," he says, his tone bitter. It's the first time he's brought up her torture in a while. While the bruises have disappeared, they're still carved into her mind like they're fresh wounds. For Fitz to compare himself to the monster who hurt her makes her heart and mind ache even more.

 

"Fitz, you are not Ward. Or Giyera."

 

"I'm a bad person, Jemma. I'm the bad guy no matter what."

 

Her eyes screw closed, trying to beat the same words his LMD said to her out of her head.

 

"It wasn't you. It wasn't you, Fitz -"

 

"It was me, Jemma!" His raised voice startles her. "I know you said it was programming but all the things I did in the framework - hurting Daisy, shooting Agnes, killing Mace - they're a part of me. They're a part of me, Jemma. And that makes me just as much a bad guy as the people who hurt you."

 

She shakes her head violently. "I refuse to believe that."

 

"C'mon Jemma. You know as well as I do -"

 

"Don't, Fitz!" Her sharp tone shreds through the air. She stands up but doesn't trust herself to walk any closer to him. "You were in a simulation. Manipulated to be a person you weren't and raised by a man that was never in your life. Do you have some evil in you? Yes.  We all have a dark side, Fitz. Even me. But you can't allow that dark side of you be used for bad things. You have the choice to use the dark side in a good way. And I'll keep reminding you of that until you believe it yourself."

 

It's absolutely silent in the room. They're both staring at each other, their chests heaving.

 

He clears his throat, looking anywhere but her as he asks, "Does it hurt?"

 

"What?"

 

"Your leg?"

 

She looks down at the wound. It's been tended to since it happened, but it's still throbbing through the bandage. "It's alright, I guess. Just another scar to add to the pile."

 

Jemma silently then gestures that she's going to leave, making up excuses, when Fitz stops her. He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes it tight, and she turns her head to look up at him.

 

He's so close. She could easily reach up and kiss him, but she knows that now isn't the right time. They stand still for a moment, relishing in their proximity, and then she walks out, leaving him  with nothing but a burnt lab and his thoughts.

* * *

Some time later,  they all pile into the unmarked SHIELD vehicle to go to Rae’s. After all, if they're  going to be arrested, they might as well enjoy one last meal together before it happens.

 

Coulson drove with May in the passenger seat. Daisy sat in the middle while teasing Mack and Yoyo, leaving Fitz and Jemma in the back.

 

Jemma thinks back to the how the team reacted when Fitz said he wanted to stay back to take the blame. It hurt her so much to think of Fitz in that situation, wanting to give up on himself like that.

 

They’ve always been a team; there was no way she - or anyone else - would leave him to take the fall alone. She tried to convey as much as possible into the look she gave him; sadness at how easily he wanted to sacrifice himself on behalf of them all, determination that even if they decided to let him do so, she sure as hell wouldn't.

 

And hope; she wanted him to see that she still believed in their future, that it wasn't dead, even if he thought it was. She wasn't giving up on him, not after everything they've been through. She wasn't going to give up on him, even when he may feel like she deserved better.

 

She feels his hand on her leg, his thumb stroking over the place where she was shot in the Framework. She turns her head to look at him, but he's staring down at her leg, seemingly lost in thought. "This is where I shot you," he says softly.

 

Even though he doesn't look up at her, she still tilts her head in a sympathetic way. "Fitz -"

 

"Yeah, yeah I know. It was a simulation, it wasn't actually me blah, blah, blah." His hand moves away from her leg briefly as she slides across the seat to sit in the middle.

 

Placing his hand back on her leg and laying her hand on top of his, she whispers," That wound isn't there, Fitz. It's not real."

 

He gestures to her other leg. "That one is."

 

"My point still stands," she retorts, "It may be real, but you weren't the one to give it to me."

 

"It was, however, a thing that was made to look a lot like me, that's for sure," he scoffs.

 

"It still wasn't you," she says. He's looking at her again; one of those looks that both melts her and sets her on fire.

 

She squeezes his hand and continues, "I may always have evidence of what has been done to me in the past, but the only evidence I have of what you've done to me - the real you - is that you love me more than I could ever love myself."

 

He's still giving her that look, the one that he knows drives her up a wall. She's about to do something to wipe it off his face when he pulls his hand out from under hers and gently touches her cheek with his fingers. T hey push her hair back behind her ear, and then travel almost teasingly down to her neck where the bruised indents of the LMD still reside. His fingers ease over, and feels her pulse quicken under them. His eyes don't leave hers the whole time.

 

"Did you at least put the bloody thing out of its misery?" he asks, a hint of a smile - the first one she's seen in a while, if she's being honest - on his lips.

 

"I practically ripped the wires from its neck," she answers, smiling a bit herself.

 

His face falls in the slightest. "Was it scary?"

 

She sighs. "Honestly? I've never been so scared." She lays her head on his shoulder - the same shoulder that's always brought her comfort - and inhales his familiar scent. "All I know is that it's gone and you're here and that's all that matters. It's just another scar in my past."

 

He leans down to press a kiss on the top of her head. "These scars make you strong, Jemma," he whispers.

* * *

The biggest scar she's ever had is on her heart. There have been small cuts that have healed with time. There are much bigger cuts that still need time to heal. But the largest one of them all, the one that won't heal, is knowing that Jemma is time and space away from Fitz, and there's nothing she can do to reverse the clock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi! I'm fitzjemma on tumblr <3


	4. Fourth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times that Fitz reassures Jemma about her many scars, and the one time he doesn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big huge thanks to the fabulous @leopoldjamesfitz on tumblr for beta'ing as always
> 
> Takes place after 5x06 and around 5x07. Canon compliant-ish (kinda more canon divergent but some of the plotline is canon compliant. I wrote this before these episodes aired). More fluff than angst. <3

  
Jemma, Fitz and Daisy  were able to find their way down a couple levels without being stopped or questioned, making sure to check every corner and hallway before walking out into the open. 

They couldn't take any chances, not with the bounty on all three of their heads now. Daisy, at least, blended in a lot better with her black ensemble, whereas Jemma's slave outfit and Fitz's marauder outfit would draw unnecessary attention.    
  
Jemma focuses on the tight grip Fitz has on her hand as they walk down a semi vacant hallway, keeping their eyes peeled. 

One moment she's looking behind her, and the next she's being pulled into a dark corner with Fitz pressed against her and Daisy pressed as close into the dark as she can. He presses his finger to his lips and leans into her, both arms braced on either sides of her head.She fists her hand into the front of his jacket, anchoring him to her. He's close enough that his breath fans against her lips and it sends shivers down her spine.   
  
She watches over his shoulder with baited breath as the Kree passes by, and she closes her eyes hoping that it doesn't come back.

Her eyes flutter open to see Fitz staring down at her, his eyes both hooded and concerned. He pushes away from her to check the hall and then grabs her hand and tugs her away from the wall, Daisy trailing close behind.   
  
They take off running down another hallway and another and another still, until they reach an area Jemma is familiar with. They're not far from their team now.   
  
"I'm going to go try to find the team," Daisy says, "You two lay low for a moment. Find some clothes to help Jemma blend in better. If I find the team, I'll be back for you.   
  
The two of them try refute, claiming that they shouldn't split up, but Daisy throws the hood over her head and walks off without another glance.   
  
They stand stunned for a moment, then Fitz finds a vacant room and guides Jemma into it, shutting and locking the door behind them. He sighs in relief against the door and turns around, but is instantly halted by the movement of Jemma's body falling into his.   
  
His arms wrap around her, trapping her arms between their chests. They spend a few moments just breathing each other in, his body holding hers, her head tucked under his.   
  
"I thought you'd never come," she whispers, her voice muffled in his shirt, "Like this is all a dream."   
  
"I'm here. I'm real," he says, voice laced with emotion.   
  
She pulls back but still stays in his arms. "Convince me."   
  
She doesn't need any further convincing; that kiss he impressed against her golden lips back in the Octagon was enough to confirm the reality. She just missed him so much that all she wants is a moment alone with him, to drown in him and show him how much she loves him.    
  
He in turn doesn't need more permission than that. He leans in, one hand sliding up her left cheek behind her ear...   
  
Excruciating pain shoots straight to her skull, her vision blurring. She yells in pain, twisting away from Fitz to double over. Her hands hit her ears, begging for it to stop.   
  
"Jemma!" His voice is muffled; she can barely hear him.   
  
She feels his hands pull her up to a standing position, walking her over to the bed and setting her down on her back. He leans over her, his hand cradling her other cheek and the hand not gripping at her ear clutching her wrist.   
  
He remembers Kasius mentioning something about how his servants couldn't hear anything except for the words of their master, and with biting down the bitter hatred he felt in that moment, he goes searching around the room for something to take the device out.   
  
He finds some sort of prong and rushes back to her side, his hand returning to the right side of her face. "Jemma?! Jemma! Look at me! Look at me." 

Her other hand that was covering her ear falls to his arm, and her other joins, the grip punishing and painful and numbing. Her eyes search his, and he's shaking, shaking so bad that the prong almost falls out of his hand.   
  
"This is gonna hurt," he says, pushing the prong into her ear and she starts screaming again.   
  
The pain in her voice is almost too much for him to bear; it brings him back to when he was forced to listen to her being tortured. He keeps pushing in until he reaches the device and pulls it out, and she immediately lurches forward, her breathing ragged and her hands gripping his arm even tighter.   
  
He drops the prong to the ground and stomps on the device with his boot. He then helps her into a sitting position, slightly wincing at the blood now in the inner and outer areas of her ear at the removal of the blasted device. He lets her sit for a few moments to catch her breath, recoiling at the residual pain in her ear, but then settling down.    
  
Then suddenly Fitz reaches forward and grabs her hand, watching as they twined together. "I'm so sorry, Jemma. I should've been here sooner. I never would've let them do this to you."   
  
"You had no choice," she says, "you weren't sent here with us to begin with. And even if you were, they wouldn't take an act of bravery so kind. You only would've been hurt, too, in the end."   
  
"That's the thing though," he says, "You've been through too much pain over the years. A lot more than I have. I mean for Christ's sake, Jemma, you survived on a bloody alien planet for half a year. You were tortured, beaten, infected, amongst other things. I think it's time I start bearing the load you've been carrying for the both of us, yeah?"   
  
Jemma doesn't respond at first, but then she adjusts her body on the bed to be turned towards him." You know, Kasius thought of me as a pristine canvas, something flawless and perfect. Not a scar or blemish to be seen. If they had known how many I had that they didn't see, they would have gotten rid of me long ago."   
  
"Hey," he says, drawing her face up towards his, "Your scars are what make you who you are. They show how strong you are, and how much you have fought to be alive. I know when I look at you, I don't see scars. I see someone who is beautiful inside and out, regardless of the pain you've been through."   
  
"Yours too," she whispers. He looks at her,  confused. "I saw how you were back there, with taking those Kree down. And how you handled Kasius. I saw the look in your eyes; you still haven't shaken the Fitz from the Framework."   
  
"Someone told me I had to take the dark inside of me and use it for good in order to come to terms with it. Seems it worked, seeing as though it meant I got you back."   
  
She nods, a tear escaping her eye. "Yeah. You did."   
  
He reaches forward to sweep the tear away then cringes. "We should really get that gold off your face. Make you look normal again."   
  
She nods, watching him back off the bed to wander into a little room. She can hear him moving around, and water running from a faucet. A moment later he emerges, a rag and a bowl in his hands. His scarf and jacket had been discarded, and Jemma has to hold her breath.   
  
He looked really good. And she wasn't just thinking that because he was - well, now her fiancé. Or even the fact they've been separated for 74 years in the very least. The blue shirt he was wearing hugged his body in a very flattering way, the sleeves rolled up past his forearms. He had dark maroon pants with leather strips on them, and strapped boots. Not to mention, his unruly curls had begun to make a reappearance and the scruff on his face was heading straight for full on beard.   
  
Needless to say, she's glad that she's sitting because her knees are feeling quite weak.   
  
He kneels down in front of her, pressing the damp rag to her ear first to wipe up the cooling blood there. He then wets the rags again and places it on her forehead and begins to rub gently across it. The water is warm, and pleasant humming noise accidentally bubbles out of her mouth by the feeling of it. 

She stares at him while he silently wiped off her face with the rag, his expression determined. He wrings it out and brings it down to her lips, cautiously wiping the gold off while she kept them shut as tight as she could. He removed the strip of gold from her neck, then leaned back to observe her face.   
  
"There she is," he whispers, finally.   
  
Jemma can't take it anymore; she needs to feel the touch of his kiss again, without the gold barrier. She surges forward, pressing her lips to his. She meant for it to be soft and gentle, but as soon as their lips touched all thoughts of being gentle escaped her mind. She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, kissing him long and hard. His arms wind around her back, her chest colliding with his and a moan falling from her mouth into his. 

She runs her hands up his chest to his head, scratching her nails against his scalp and feeling his vibrating groan in response. She moves them down to his stubble and pulls apart gasping for air, not wanting him to move even a little bit away from her.   
  
They're both panting, only allowing a few moments to pass before Jemma leans back in, fusing their lips together even harder. He sits up, not breaking the kiss as he leans over her, pushing her back onto the bed. Her hands move down to the first button of his shirt, but that's the same moment he decides to pull away and Jemma actually whimpers at the separation.   
  
"We need to find you clothes," he says, his warm breath fanning over her lips.   
  
Jemma nods in understanding as he reluctantly gets up, walking over to the dresser across the room. He rummages through it, his back to her, and she takes the time to really appreciate how he looks in that outfit.   
  
He brings clothes over to the bed for her to wear and sets them down. "I'll go take care of this," he says as he gestures to the bowl filled with the gold flecks of paint, "Change into these and I'll be right back."   
  
He disappears into the bathroom again, but Jemma only stares at the clothes. When he comes back out, she's standing, hoping she can convey to him through her eyes what she wants. They've always been able to have conversations doing so.   
  
He moves closer, trying to discern what she is implying. When he finally understands, he reaches for the front of her top, slowly pulling the front of it open.

They're both breathing heavily from their current situation and those kisses. His hands move so slow when removing the top that she instantly becomes frustrated, about ready to remove it herself. He pushes the shirt off her shoulders, letting his hands linger a bit longer on her collar bones. His eyes fall down on her stomach, where the bruises are no longer there, but she can see the memory running through his mind. Of when she first allowed him to do this, the night he found out about the extent of her torture.   
  
She sucks in a breath as his hand travels down to her abdomen, his thumb running up and down the skin. They travel down to her waist, pulling down the pants she has on. She wordlessly steps out of them one leg at a time, then balances her arms on his back as he helps her into the pants. However, he wasn't ready for the weight of her body because he loses his footing, and Jemma falls back onto the bed laughing.   
  
It's the first laugh she's released in forever, and the sound of it causes Fitz to erupt into a laugh as well. But then it stops when he notices the gash on her upper leg where the pants don't cover. His eyes are trained on the scar.    
  
"Fitz," she says, pulling his face up to look at her. "What are you thinking about?"   
  
"I haven't gotten to see it yet," he whispers, "What it did to you."   
  
She thinks he's going to run off into a tangent again, but instead he breaks free of her grip to move down and plant his lips on the scar, a warm feeling flooding Jemma's veins at the contact. He moves back so she can pull the pants all the way up. She stands in time for him to help her into her shirt and jacket, stopping beforehand to get a good look at her exposed skin. When she's dressed, he walks over to the bathroom to grab his jacket and scarf and comes back out to Jemma putting on the boots he gave to her to wear.   
  
"How do I look?" she asks, looking down at her outfit he picked out for her.   
  
"Do you want me to tell you or show you?" he counters, walking close and pulling her into him.   
  
"Regardless of whether you show me or tell me, we wouldn't be leaving this room for a while," she smirks, "and we really should be looking for our team."   
  
He pouts, and she presses her hands into his chest, giving him a chaste kiss. "Don't worry. We'll celebrate our getting engaged soon, I promise."   
  
She pulls away from his arms to walk towards the door, not looking back to see how her suggestion affected him. As much as she wants to give into that idea right now, it's not the right time nor place to do so.    
  
She reaches for the doorknob but his hand on hers stills her movement. She turns around only to find him right there.   
  
Her back hits the door and he invades her space, leaning in so close to Jemma she can't breathe, but not making any further movement. She looks up into his eyes, gasping at just how dark they were, almost like drowning in the sea. They're searching her out, almost like he's trying to read her mind. If he really could, she'd be embarrassed. He places his hands on the door, close to either side of her head,  but not touching.

Finally, after one more drawn out look, he dips his head low and presses his lips to hers. She gasps into his mouth, the gentle pressure of the kiss surprising her. It's a sharp contrast to the kiss they shared on the bed. That one had been hurried and fast, wanting to get as much of the other as they could. But this one is much more different; his mouth moves so softly against hers - so achingly slow - that she has to grip his jacket to keep standing. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, pushing her even further into the door, but still managing to keep it slow and languid. It's all too much; her mind is in overdrive. He's making it impossible for her to want to leave this room.   
  
He leans away from the kiss, his chest heaving and finally giving her a moment to catch her breath. Her head tilts up against the door to look up at him. He's still really close; his eyes look even darker than before and his cheeks are flushed. She's sure she looks the same.   
  
"I love you," he says, his raspy voice giving her another zing.   
  
"I love you too," she whispers, not trusting her voice to say anything more.   
  
He backs away from her and gestures to the door, and Jemma has to take a minute to refocus on the task at hand.   
  
She pushes her body away from the door in a daze and opens it, about to walk out before she thinks of a way to get back at him for that kiss.   
  
"Fitz?" she asks, turning around halfway out the door.   
  
"Hmmm?"   
  
"When we get back to earth, I want to hear exactly what you were going to say and do to me, down to the last detail."   
  
She doesn't look behind to see how he reacts, but he does follow closely behind when she leaves the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come find me on tumblr! I'm fitzjemma <3


	5. fifth.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times that Fitz reassures Jemma about her many scars, and the one time he doesn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even after the physical scars disappear, Jemma and Fitz deal with the psychological scars that never seem to go away. Takes place after the space arc. More angst than fluff this time

  
_ She failed. She couldn't save him. She tried to save him in the Framework, tried to keep him safe here, but she failed. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ One of Kasius' guards has Fitz by the throat, the latter’s entire face has gone red. He pleads through a strangled voice for Jemma to help him, save him, and then his eyes roll back into his head. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ But being under Kasius' control, she cannot hear or see him. _ _   
_ _   
_ __ She feels a heavy thud of a body hitting the floor -

__   
  
Jemma sits up so fast in bed that she's instantly nauseous.   
  
She places her head between her knees, breathing heavily and irregularly. Her heart is beating too fast and her palms and forehead are sweaty.   
  
It's been like this almost every night since their return from space. She finds herself in this same position every night, awakening from another intense nightmare.   
  
Almost every single one of them includes Fitz. Every single one of them ends with someone she cares about dying by her hand.   
  
All because she couldn't hear their cries for help.   
  
A warm hand lands on her back and rubs  it comfortingly, steering her away from her dark thoughts and back to their bedroom.   
  
She pulls her head out from between her legs to look back at a concerned Fitz. His other hand reaches out to wipe across her forehead, and her stomach lurches at the action. He's been so tender with her, so alert and ready during the night, that it hurts her. She wants nothing more than for him to actually rest for once since this whole mess ended.   
  
But what she sees in his features alerts her to the fact that maybe she isn't the one responsible for his lack of sleep.   
  
He has deep bags under his eyes - which were bloodshot - and frown lines creasing around his lips and forehead. He looked like he hasn't slept a wink since they went to bed hours ago.   
  
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, his hand having moved from her forehead to her cheek.   
  
Jemma shakes her head, causing his hand to fall away from her face to her shoulder. She doesn't tell him much about her dreams. Sometimes he can decipher what happens from when she talks or screams in her sleep. But other times, she keeps quiet about them, not wanting to worry him too much. She knows he would lose even more sleep knowing the extent of most of her nightmares.   
  
"Have you slept at all tonight, Fitz?" she asks instead, disregarding his prior question.   
  
"You just had another awful nightmare and you're asking me if I'm okay? I'm fine, I promise." Nothing about his answer reassures her.   
  
He looks over her shoulder at the clock glowing behind them on a small wooden table. It blurred for a minute when he looked at it, but he made out that it was sometime past four in the morning.   
  
"Can I get you anything?" he asks.   
  
"Yeah," she says, "Answers."   
  
He gulps and she sighs. "Why weren't you sleeping?"   
  
He could try to deny it, lie about it, or try to get out of explaining, but the firm look on Jemma's face tells him he won't be able to do any of those things.   
  
"I've been having dreams of my own," he finally says.   
  
She turns her body around to fully face him. "About what?"   
  
"About," he pauses and breathes out, "About not being able to save you from being tortured by Giyera and Ward."   
  
"What?" she stutters. "You're still having nightmares about that?"   
  
He nods.   
  
"For how long?" she asks.   
  
"Since it happened," he admits, looking down at his lap.   
  
She knew full well the psychological effects that traumatizing memories has on one's mind. She didn't expect him to still be suffering from this, especially with everything else they've been through since then. Besides, she was the one who was physically tortured, not him.

Still, she finds herself blurting out, "Why are you having nightmares about that when it didn't happen to you?"   
  
"Because it did happen to me, Jemma. It killed me to hear your screams, while I sat there utterly useless. I couldn't save you. I can still hear you screaming, calling out to me, and when I finally did you were - "   
  
He places his head in his hands and it's her turn to comfort him, running her hand through his hair. "Hey, look at me."   
  
At first he doesn't, but then he reluctantly raises his head to look at her. 

"I'm fine," she says, pulling his hand to rest in hers, the metal of their wedding rings clashing together, "I'm alive and I'm here and - well, we might not be one hundred percent okay but we're together and safe."   
  
She pauses for a moment when he doesn't respond. "Is that all you dream about, Fitz? About me being tortured?" she inquires. She sure as hell didn't want to share her dreams but she was hoping maybe he'd be more open to explaining his.   
  
He shakes his head. "No. A lot of it has to do with who I was in the Framework and what I did."   
  
She sucks in a breath. It wasn't surprising, the fact that he still had nightmares about that. She did too, if she was being honest. But just remembering everything that happened in the Framework still feels like a fresh wound.   
  
He then whispers, "I have nightmares that you leave me."   
  
Her head snaps to attention. "What?"   
  
He looks up at her then, his eyes red rimmed and tears appearing in them. "Back after the accident...when you left for Hydra. Only you left because you thought I was useless.”   
  
Her eyes close as memories of that point in their lives come flooding back to her. They both know why she left in the end, she made sure to tell him all that. But to hear that he still thinks she might leave kills her.   
  


She never would; curse be damned.   
  
Jemma lies down on the bed and pulls him down with her, laying his head on her chest as her hand lazily moves through his curls. "Why didn't you tell me any of this, Fitz?"   
  
"I wanted to be strong for you," he says, his voice muffled by her shirt. "I see what you've gone through every night for the past couple months, and I want nothing more than to help you. I don't want to burden you with my problems."   
  
He can't see her reaction, but rather hears it in a heavy sigh that momentarily lifts his head.

"Fitz, nothing about what you're dealing with is a burden to me. Just like you've said that what I'm dealing with is not a burden to you. We've each been through hell and back - but for each other. We promised that we wouldn't keep anything between us anymore, and that includes what happens at night during our dreams. We need to handle this like we said we would - as a team, a unit," she grabs his hand where it rests on her stomach and squeezes it, "As a family."   
  
She doesn't hear him say anything, let alone breath, and she's afraid he's fallen asleep on her before he could hear that last part.   
  
(He's needed reassurance about the family part since she told him theirs would be expanding.)   
  
But then she hears him let out a deep sigh and she smiles, his warm breath hitting her stomach through the thin cotton. His hand cradles her tiny bump. "We're a right mess, you know? Everyone else is probably sleeping peacefully right now and here we are talking about nightmares at four in the morning."   
  
Jemma can't argue with his point. Once they all returned to earth three months ago, they decided to each take a little break to recuperate. Daisy had to lay low for a while, so she stayed cooped up in her van. Mack and Yoyo found themselves back with Ruben, Mack's younger brother. Even May and Coulson took a break together; she invited him back to stay with her father for a while. 

Jemma smiles as she thinks of where Fitz and she are right now. That is, in a tiny getaway cottage halfway the distance between his mum and her parents, a place that he had purchased on a whim as soon as they had the chance.   
  
She doesn't have the right words to say to him, so she just hums in agreement. He then suddenly says into the darkness, "I know you don't want to talk about it all, but just know that you can."   
  
She ponders his words for a second, remembering what she said about not allowing things to come between them, and then squeezes her eyes shut.   
  
"A lot of my nightmares center around guilt. How I can't save those who are closest to me because I can't hear them or even see them. Most of the time it's you I can't save." His hand squeezes hers, and she shuts her eyes to let the tears fall. "I just stand there like a statue as you suffer until your body hits the ground and I -"   
  
She cuts herself off just then, her entire body shaking as she cries. He sits up just then and her hands fly to her face, covering it. But then he pulls them away and she sees his face inches from hers, his eyes an intense blue even in the dark.   
  
"I'm here, Jemma. There's no blue man group around anymore to take me away from you."   
  
She nods once again, the tears still falling. He wraps his body around hers and she turns into him, her face buried in his chest as he just holds her. It takes her a while to calm down, but when she finally does she pulls slightly out of his grasp to lie back down on her pillow. Her eyes silently thank him, unable to say the words.   
  
His hand reaches out to her hair, pushing it away from her neck. "Does it still hurt?" he asks softly, gesturing to her ear.   
  
"I have little phantom pains here and there, but it's a lot better than it used to be." She shrugs, then adds, "Just another scar to add to the list."   
  
He leans forward tentatively to place a kiss on the shell of her ear, giving her a little shiver. Then he leans back and looks into her eyes once more before leaning in to kiss her. His mouth applies little kisses to hers, not giving her time to react or deepen any of them.   
  
"What are these for?" she asks between each one.   
  
He pulls back just then and says, "To make up for all the ones we missed while we were apart. Because if I can recall, we were apart for 74 and a half years."   
  
He kisses her once more, longer this time, but she pulls away. "Is that why you told me you didn't want to live another day without me?"   
  
He nods. "That was pretty dramatic of me, wasn't it? Especially because you couldn't hear?"   
  
"I thought it was pretty romantic," she says, shaking her head, "In our own kind of way."   
  
He pauses for a moment, thinking this over, then says, "I guess we'll just have to make sure no space - outer or personal - comes between us again, yeah?"   
  
She nods, her face growing serious for a second. She remembers the night they got together, promising that they wouldn't let anything come between them. And yet they did. They let the whole damn universe split their world in two. 

She almost laughs at their past selves, talking about finding something magnificent in space. Really, there was nothing magnificent about their experience among the stars. But then again, it taught them that even though the universe threatened to pull them apart, it never worked. She thinks of the rings settled on both their hands as evidence of that fact. 

And as she looks into his eyes, she sees all the reasons why she keeps fighting everything threatening to break them. Instead of dampening the light mood that's finally made its way into their conversation, she smiles and says, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"   
  
He nods once again before moving his body to cover hers and kissing the smirk right off her face.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr! I'm fitzjemma <3


	6. +1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times that Fitz reassures Jemma about her many scars, and the one time he doesn’t have to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fitz apologizes for the scars Jemma has, but there's really nothing to apologize for. Takes place in future events. Literally all fluff. No angst.

Jemma waves her pass card in front of the elevator door and walks in, choosing her desired level. She leans against the wall as it slowly lowers down, hearing the clicking of the levels as they tick down. She check her watch, wincing at seeing how late the hour was. She never liked being away for this long, but her lab work was time sensitive and had to be done that night. 

 

The door pings, signaling its arrival at her floor, and she waves the same pass card at the door to grant her access. The door slides open, and Jemma walks through with a smile at the silence that filled their level. 

 

After they all decided to return to work, they moved their base to the Lighthouse, and each agent was granted their own personal level, with limited access by others to ensure privacy. Jemma and Fitz's level was almost like a house to them, with large spacious rooms and plenty of them. They renovated when they moved in to make it look more like a home, only using a small section of the level for their makeshift abode, and while it took a long time they were both more than content with the result. 

 

Jemma slips off her shoes and lab coat, hanging the coat on the rack by the elevator. There's shuffling in one of the bedrooms, and she smiles at the thought of soon wrapping herself up with Fitz and taking a well needed rest. 

 

The thought alone gives her a sense of lethargy. She walks right down the hallway to her and Fitz's bedroom, not even stopping to say hello to him where he was in the other small room across the hall. 

 

She opens the door to their room, only having enough energy to throw her shirt off and fling it into the hamper by the closet. She unbuttons her jeans and ends up just flopping face down on the bed. 

 

She hears shuffling down the hall towards their living room then a faucet running. She smiles deep into the mattress at the sound of dishes being placed into the cupboards.

 

He's such a good man. 

 

After a few minutes she hearts the faucet turn off and socked feet walk back down the hall. 

 

"Okay. Dishes are done, baby is finally asleep, and we are... Jemma?"

 

She turns her head to the side to look at him, not even having the energy to lift it up. He's leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face at her current state of undress.

 

"I'm fine," she says, turning and dragging her body up the bed to lean against the headboard, "Just exhausted, is all."

 

She stretches her arms over her head and bends her back, knowing how Fitz would react. Rightly so, his eyes roam over her body, and she still grows hot under his gaze. Even though they've been friends for ten years, dating for five, and married for a little under a year, the looks he gives her still is enough to make her weak. 

 

"How was your day?" he asks, clearing his throat but still standing by the door.

 

"Tiring, but I got the work done" she replies with a grin. 

 

Her smile must have had a double meaning to it because  he gives her another good look up and down her body before he moves forward to lean over her, placing a chaste kiss on her lips.  "You never said goodnight to the baby." 

 

He moves over to the dresser to get out her pajamas while she sits up straight. "I figured because you finally got her to sleep, I wouldn't disturb seeing as though she'd probably want to latch the second she sees me.  Probably even start crying again. I need a break from that for a night."

 

"Oh sure," he mocks, "I stay home with her all day but the second she sees her mum she goes straight to her to be held."

 

"Excuse me Fitz, but if I remember correctly I was the one who pushed another human out of my vagina. I'm pretty sure she would show some sort of excessive emotion to seeing their mother."

 

"Don't pull that 'I gave birth to them' story. It's completely overused," he retorts, a smile on his face.

 

She gets up from the bed to walk over to him. "It's pure biology Fitz. A subject I'm quite well versed in."

 

"Oh yeah? Well, she said my name first." He says it in such a childish way that she can't help but giggle. 

 

"To be fair, she did say 'Fifs,' which isn't exactly your name." 

 

She can tell he's lost momentum, trying to think of a comeback but unable too, huffing in defeat. She snickers, but then sees something else flashing in his eyes.

 

"Do you think that even though I spend more time with her, she loves you more?" he asks, a serious tone in his voice. "Do you think I'm doing enough to show that I love her?"

 

She tilts her head to the side, reaching her hand up to move through his overgrown curls. "Of course you're doing enough, Fitz. You're an amazing father and she's very lucky to have you around. I know I am." She gives 

him a fond smile, kissing him briefly and moving into their bathroom to brush her teeth.

 

She has the toothbrush halfway into her mouth when he asks, "If Maria was to choose one of us over the other, which one would she chose?"

 

She rolls her eyes fondly. "That's an unethical statement and you know it. Our child is over a year old and unable to make a just decision. Besides, if it were up to her, she'd choose me. You know, boobs and all."

 

She laughs at the look on his face - of both shock and something else - as she brushes her teeth. A couple minutes goes by but Jemma can see the wheels turning in Fitz's brain as she does her nightly routine.

 

Splashing cold water on her face and drying it off, she hears the silent question release from his lips. "Do you think it would've been a lot different?"

 

"If what was different?" she asks, moving back into the bedroom to remove her jeans.

 

"If you and I ended up with different people in the end?" He's wringing his hands in nervousness, and it pulls at her heartstrings.

 

She steps out of the leg of her jeans and shivers at the cold breeze touching her legs, but moves forward to wrap her arms around his neck.

 

"I mean," he continues, "I never doubted we wouldn't make it through everything we did. But if we never stayed together we wouldn't have been Fitzsimmons anymore, we would've been Fitz and Simmons."

 

Jemma doesn't say anything; she just leans forward to kiss him both hard and chaste, enough to make his brain short circuit. She drags her lips up his jaw to his ear and whispers, "It's a good thing that we proved the cosmos aren't against us, after all."

 

She pulls away from him, not even trying to contain her giggles, and he groans loudly. "I said that one time, Jemma! You have to let it go!

 

She's still laughing as she discards her bra and pulls her shirt and flannel pants on before climbing into bed. He joins her in an instant, leaning over her to connect their lips again. He pushes her down onto the pillow as he deepens the kiss, and she moans into his mouth. His hands move under her shirt, roaming her stomach and lighting Jemma on fire. He pulls the shirt right back over her head, reconnecting their lips once he does. 

 

She whimpers when he pulls away, only to drop another light kiss on her mouth. She sits up the slightest bit to watch as he traces the stretch marks along her exposed stomach, showing evidence of where their baby was not long ago. 

 

Jemma's eyes unconsciously close at the way his fingertips lightly touch her.

 

"I'm sorry."

 

Her eyes snap open lazily at him. "Why are you apologizing?"

 

"More scars," is all he mumbles, pulling away. 

 

"Oh Fitz." She sits up fully, but grabs his hands to place them firmly back on her stomach. "These scars aren't like the ones I received from being tortured, or manipulated, or controlled. Those all disappeared long ago - physically that is." His thumbs trace her marks and she smiles. "These are the good kind of scars, Fitz. The kind that I want to have on my body. They show that I've gone through a beautiful phase in my life -"

 

"I wouldn't use beautiful to describe childbirth, Jemma."

 

"Hush you," she says. "It shows that I've shared this phase with someone that I love more than anything in the world."

 

He gives her that look; the one that melts her insides. She places her hands on his cheeks to bring his face closer to hers. "So yes, Fitz," she says, "I have more scars on my body, but I love them. Because you gave them to me."

 

A pause goes by, and then, "That sentence could be interpreted a few different ways if you look at it with no context, Jemma."

 

Her hands fall to her lap in defeat. "I am trying to be sentimental here, Fitz!"

 

"Sorry, sorry."

 

"I love you," she says tenderly.

 

"I love you too." He bends down just then and kisses her stretch marks, and that spark ignites once again in Jemma's stomach. He kisses his way up her stomach, pulling her shirt over her head to kiss the skin there. She sighs softly when he kisses over her heart, his lips trailing up over her collarbone to her neck. Finally, he kisses her lips, another content sigh falling from her lips.

 

They're so wrapped up in each other that they barely register their daughter crying from the other room. Fitz groans loud, his head falling down onto her bare chest. "Nope, I take it back," he murmurs into her skin, "We are most certainly cursed."

 

They might actually be cursed, Jemma thinks. They have the scars to prove it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support on this fic. It really means the world to me and has motivated me to actually write. <3 
> 
> tumblr: fitzjemma <3


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